The Mwenje syndrome

By Michael Oriedo

If there is an MP the people of Embakasi constituency won't forget in a hurry, it is the late David Mwenje - may his soul rest in peace.

This is not because the legislator did anything great to improve the lives of his constituents, but for the simple reason that many viewed him as a 'man of the people'.

Mwenje refused to climb the social ladder, despite the trappings of his position.

The combative legislator lived in Dandora, drove an ‘ordinary’ car and patronised bars in the area.

His constituents would see him on TV arguing with the Speaker during heated parliamentary debates but in the evening, he would be with them at Hitler’s, sipping keg beer and enjoying other delights.

These acts endeared him to the people, who surprisingly could not fathom why the MP declined to live a life that befitted his status.

Well, Mwenje belonged to a class of people who decline to climb the social, business or economic ladder, despite life rewarding them bountifully.

These people, many who start out small but end up millionaires, live ‘ordinary lives’, refusing to change their status.

Water crisis

They cling onto their past lives. For instance, they continue to live in low-income neighbourhoods and take their children to public schools so that they can benefit from Free Primary Education.

Kevin Bongo, a resident of Nairobi’s Eastlands, area knows such a man.

"When you meet him, you cannot believe he is rich. He pushes a handcart yet he owns several matatus that ply the area,’’ he says.

The man’s fortunes, according to Bongo, started changing some years ago during a water crisis.

"We had a water problem in our estate that lasted for several months. The man owned a handcart, which he used to ferry and sell water to residents," he recalls.

The water vendor did the business for several months. Consequently, he bought a second handcart and employed people to operate it.

"He did booming business serving thirsty residents. We could not tell where he got the water from but it was never in short supply," Bongo says.

When Nairobi Water Company resolved the crisis, the man lost business but he had benefited a lot.

With the two carts, he continued with his previous business, carrying luggage for people who operate grocery stalls.

After a short while, the man bought a 14-seater matatu and put it on City centre- Umoja route.

Livelihood

With the vehicle in operation, many expected he would quit the cart pushing business, but he did not. He employed people to operate the vehicle.

Similarly, he did not quit a year later when he added another matatu.

To date, the cart pusher has stuck to his trade despite owning a transport business that offers employment to over ten people.

According to Bongo, the man has refused to quit the trade he loves because he believes the handcarts act as his ‘insurance’.

"He always says that the matatu business has many uncertainties. So he has to stick to the carts so that in case anything happens to his vehicles, his livelihood is not destroyed," explains Bongo.

The man, he says, serves his clients with such zeal and humility that many cannot link him to his wealth.

"He is wealthier than most people whose luggage he carries but they can’t suspect it. Some of them even look down upon him, others decline to pay for his services or order him around but he does not mind," says Bongo.

Mean job

Some, however, after learning that he owns several vehicles start to show an interest in him.

Bongo says the man believes he was born a servant and likes it when his clients give him instructions.

"He does not believe that pushing a cart is a mean job for a man of his status. He has sworn to do the work for as long as his body allows it," he says.

His love for the work, however, has not cushioned him from people who believe he is too ‘big’ to push a cart, a job seen by many to be lowly.

Interestingly, besides his occupation, the man has also not changed his lifestyle.

"He has done little to change the way he lives. He lives in a single room and his wife runs a small food kiosk," he says.

Many may believe that the man is mean, but he is happy with his life.

Talking of happiness, some people built stone houses that they rent out and continue living happily in grass-thatched huts.

This is what a man in Kakamega County did a few years ago, says Mechack Ambune, a resident.

The man, who has two wives, put up four two bed-roomed houses and rented all of them out for Sh7,000 per month.

Decent houses

However, he continued living with his wives and children at a shanty settlement in the town.

"Many people knew that he owned decent houses and could not understand why he chose to live in the informal settlement. It seemed like he was doing it out of greed," says Ambune.

One day, the town council decided to evict residents from the slum and flatten their houses

Interestingly, it is the man who cried the most and loudest.

"He declined to move from the shanty when residents were given two days to vacate. When bulldozers arrived, the man called the people evicting them names and threatened them with court action," Ambune recalls.

Later, he camped at the site like other residents claiming that he had nowhere to go.

When it dawned on him that the council would not allow them back, he went to his houses, evicted one of the tenants and started living there with his family.

However, the man did not stay there for long, says Ambune. "He vacated the house and moved to a cheaper one. Later he rented it out to another tenant."

Supermarket

Harrison Njonjo says most of the people who decline to climb the social ladder are self-made.

"They work so hard to acquire their wealth it doesn’t occur to them that they should use it to better themselves," he says.

Njoroge recalls the story of a man in Kiambu who started out as a hawker, then opened a kiosk and later a supermarket at a trading centre in the area.

The man left his wife and children to run the supermarket and stuck to his kiosk. He never once stepped into the supermarket.

One day, he fell ill while in the kiosk, passed out and he was admitted in a hospital.

"For several days, the man remained in a coma as his wife and children sat around his bed," Njoroge recounts.

When he regained consciousness, he looked around the room and saw his wife and children.

Smiling, the trader called his wife’s name and asked her in which hospital he was.

When she told him the name of the hospital, which mostly serves the affluent, the old man shed a tear.

"Why did you bring me to this hospital yet you keep my kiosk closed? How will I pay the bill?" the angry man demanded.

Later, the family transferred him to a health facility of his choice where, interestingly, he recovered faster.

After a few days, he was back at his kiosk serving his customers with renewed vigour.